The Small Things In Life
by Calm Soul
Summary: [TyHil] When you're Hilary Tatibana, the world around you has never been so colorful. When you're Tyson Granger, the people around you have never been so pretty. And when you're life, your people have never been so beautiful. [Oneshot]


**Note: **This is a small TyHil drabble I wrote so I could get myself into the Beyblade Romance Mood!

**Disclaimer: **I hate these. They were invented to remind me of what I cannot have! ….right. Anyway, don't own Beyblade, its flowers, toads, and anything else except the plot (does this thing even have a plot?).

I'm using the dub names so just remember that Hilary Hiromi while Tyson Takao and Kenny Kyoujo. I think that's it.

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The Small Things in Life**

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When Hilary was four, she had short hair.

She was short girl with almost everything though, so her hair wasn't that big a deal to most people who had known her at the time. Hilary had short feet, short hands, and short arms, along with many other things. However, it was her short brown locks that looked like the darkest of chocolate (that had been curled around her ears) that the girl wanted so badly for her mother to brush.

When she four, her mother never brushed her hair.

She had never taken the time to pick up a brush and run it through her daughter's tresses. Hilary can still remember her mother's young face with that small smile and love etched into those red orbs that she inherited.

"Your hair's too short darling." The woman would say while she fingered a small lock. "There's not much for me to brush."

Her mom would smile wisely and Hilary would feel her heart burst with love.

Because while her hair had been short at the age of four, her love would remain long and endless.

* * *

When Hilary was five, she owned a rainbow ball.

Her father had given it to her for her birthday and she had fallen in love with it at first sight. It was perfectly round with all the most perfect colors of the world that the young girl had been in awe. From front to back there was red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple.

She loved it. She had always played with it on the sidewalk near her home. Her hands would grasp the perfect sphere and bounce it up and down, watching the colors all mix together. But somewhere along the way, her ball had stopped bouncing and was rolling and rolling and rolling down the sidewalk until it had made gentle contact with a pair of unfamiliar straw sandal encase in feet.

When Hilary had looked up from her ball to the person who had stopped it from rolling, she had made her first contact with Tyson Granger.

She remembered watching his mouth form a big grin that was directed to only her as he picked up her rainbow ball and gentle threw it back to her. She remembered catching it with her short hands and smiling back at the boy who had made her ever so curious.

"You wanna play with me? Grandpa's still fixing me lunch so we have plenty of time before the food's ready!" The boy had exclaimed as he grabbed her wrist and brought her to his dojo. He had stopped pulling her for a moment as he turned back to her with a sheepish smile. "By the way, my name's Tyson."

Hilary had giggled because he made her laugh so easily. "My name's Hilary. Sure I'll play with you!"

Tyson had smiled once more and Hilary had forgot all about her rainbow ball, knowing with the simplicity of a five year's mind that this boy before was every bit as colorful and interesting as her perfect sphere.

Because while her ball had been colorful and perfect, Tyson was colorful and more.

* * *

When Hilary was eight, she loved flowers.

At the back of her home, there was a small yard of flowers that took up only a small portion of her backyard. To her however, it was the most beautiful thing that should have taken up the whole town. Her mother had planted petunias and daisies and violets and many other beautiful types of herbs that enchanted Hilary.

The first time Hilary had invited Tyson and their other friend Kenny to her house for lunch (even back then, he was a sucker for free food) they had played tag in her backyard and Tyson had accidentally stepped on some of her treasured petunias. She had screamed at him and hit him on the head and cried for so long.

He had kissed her for forgiveness.

It was nothing passionate, it was nothing exhilarating, and it definitely not one of those kisses that made you weak at the knees. If anything, it was chaste and awkward and short and the young boy had probably did so the girl would shut up.

Nevertheless, when he pulled away seconds later, all three children had blushed light pink as they had felt an awkwardness that only eight year olds could have felt during that stage.

"Sorry." Tyson had mumbled as he scratched his nose.

"It's okay."

Hilary forgot all about her flowers.

Because when you had your first kiss stolen and ruined from a colorful boy, even nature's beauties of the world is gray and dull in comparison.

* * *

When Hilary was thirteen, her father had baked her cookies.

It was a sentimental gesture that was meant for her and only her. She had been feeling sad because Tyson and Kenny had left off together for some vacation or some sort of tournament while she was left alone with no one to hang around with. She wasn't as close with all the other girls in her class and she felt no bond with the other boys like she did with Kenny and Tyson.

So one day her father had put on her mother's pink apron (making the other family members laugh and chuckle) and took out an old family recipe for cookies. He had baked a whole batch of chocolate ship ones for just her and him. Hilary had glowed with love as she bit into them and tasted the care her father had put into them.

"Just remember, you can be the worst cook on the planet and people will still love your food as long as you've cooked them to the brim with love and care. Because underneath a burnt chicken, there lays the tender meat of poultry." Her father had proclaimed proudly.

Hilary had laughed because her father sounded so funny and serious and loving all at once.

Because when your father bakes you cookies even though your mother is the chef in the family, every little thing seems sweeter.

* * *

When Hilary was fourteen, she had trained boys.

Granted, they were the epitome of what all useless boys were supposed to be, but she trained them. When Tyson had finally returned to Bakuten with Kenny and a group of other boys, Hilary had been happy and fulfilled. She had missed arguing with Tyson and playing with Tyson and just talking to Tyson. She had missed Kenny too, because while Tyson was lively and oh so colorful, Kenny was lively in a worrywart way and just as colorful as the other boy.

Hilary had been relieved Tyson and Kenny were back because she wanted everything back to the way they were, as if nothing had ever changed.

But no matter what Hilary had wanted, things had changed. Things had changed as soon ass Tyson and Kenny had walked back into her life with three other boys who had left her in awe. She was only half unaware of it, but every time she had trained her boys to play those spinning tops well and every time she talked with Tyson and Kenny, her world had whirled around and around all over her river of life, the tides changing their pace and direction.

Unknowingly, she had welcomed it with hidden open arms because she was relieved and fulfilled. At some point or the other, the change had changed her, and she was able to call her boys 'family.'

Because that's what they were. When spinning tops and dangerous beasts had threatened her life and others, they stood strong and fierce, all together. And when they walked, she was able to walk with them, and when they talked, she talked with them, and when she glanced at Tyson, she could feel herself changing all over again.

"Beyblade isn't just a sport. It's a way of life." Kai Hiwatari had told her one day with the usual fierce expression he had worn since he met her.

Hilary smiled because when Kai gives you knowledge like this, it means he thinks your not special, but an equal.

* * *

When Hilary was fifteen, she had met Hiro Granger.

It was nothing special, because despite the fact that the boy was a long lost brother of her best friend, and ended up coaching her team with skill and determination, Hilary knew that Hiro's spirit was nothing like his younger brother's. Nor was his colors.

But perhaps, no one was.

"So I hear my brother thinks you're a spoiled brat and a witch." Hiro had said casually one afternoon when she was at the dojo and they were alone.

Though she tried to stop it, her face fell.

"I assume he does."

The older brother winked. "I'd reconsider your assumptions."

"Thanks for the advice."

Because when a girl like her receives advice from no one special, it will forever make her unique.

* * *

When Hilary was sixteen, she had fallen in love.

Well, she hadn't really _fallen _in love. Because you couldn't really call it that. When you fall, you feel the air all around you and your hair whips around your face because of the wind. When Hilary was in love, she had felt no air or wind or hair in her face.

She did feel in love though. It was feeling that couldn't be properly described, but only because there were no words designed to describe what she felt. She wasn't giddy nor fluttery nor flighty. She wasn't passionate nor adoring nor affectionate. But she wasn't bitter nor angry nor hateful. She wasn't icy nor coldhearted nor indifferent. Simply put, she was in love and it had changed her yet kept her the same.

She remembers telling Tyson. It was an ordinary day in summer and Kai, Ray, Max had paid a small visit to them. So Tyson, Kenny, and Hilary had spent some quality time with them. They had planned on beyblading against each other but there was a sudden rain storm so they were forced to stay in the dojo together.

Hilary hadn't minded that much because she was once again happy that they could all be together. It was like the rain was some sort of gift to them so they could stay in this cooped up dojo together and reminiscence.

She remembers Tyson turning to her with a question on his lips.

He never asked it.

She remembers feeling everyone's stares on her back as she had grabbed Tyson's face gently and placed the same small chaste kiss on his face just like the one he had given her years ago.

Except that when she pulled away, there was no awkwardness. Only the feeling of Tyson's colors shining so bright she had felt tempted to close her eyes. Except she never did because the boy was too vibrant to ignore.

Hilary remembers Tyson combing her hair days after. It was one of her favorite memories because she could remember the feel and love Tyson had put as he ran her comb through her no longer short hair. Her heart had brimmed with love once again.

Hilary remembers Tyson giving her rainbow ball back months after. He told her he had saved it in his closet because he thought she didn't need it. She didn't. But when he bounced the rainbow ball back to her and she caught it, she was in awe of the colors once again.

Hilary remembers so many more things, she remembers Tyson cooking for her, beyblading for her, changing for her, and remaining colorful for her.

She knows now that no matter how hard you try, your river of life will always flow in different directions and at different speeds, never orderly. She also knows that when you have color in your life, everything will always change.

And change is always good and bad, because it changes the big things and the small things in life.

Yet, it keeps them the same.

Hilary knows this.

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End****

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Note: I'm surprised at myself because this fic went into a direction that I hadn't originally intended it to be. I actually planned this to be a lighthearted TyHil romance with a lot more dialogue, but somehow it ended up being a sort of look into Hilary's character and her different aspects.**

It's not even a drabble because it's way too long!

Oh well, if you review this, then I might just get a boost of inspiration for my other fics :**hinthintwinkwinknudgenudge**:


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